


No Ordinary Mists

by novelice33



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Holiday, Ignores Season 3 plot, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22217446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novelice33/pseuds/novelice33
Summary: A Hicsqueak story, inspired by one of my favorite holiday classics, “It’s a Wonderful Life.”---As Hecate watched the golden-haired witch disappear into the gathering fog, she felt a familiarflutter in her stubborn heart, a flutter she had once mistaken for friendship, then condemned asfoolish selfishness, and now recognized as the forbearer of pain. Hecate Hardbroom, you havebeen down this road before. You know how this story ends. The memory of Pippa’s persistent criesas she knocked against her closed door and tear-stained face so many years ago flashed through hermind followed by the nights of loneliness and aching longing at Weirdsister College.And so she did.
Relationships: Hardbroom/Pentangle (Worst Witch), Hecate Hardbroom/Pippa Pentangle
Comments: 13
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

Pippa settled her queen on the chessboard and sat back with a satisfied smile, “Check.” Hecate startled, so focused had she been on her own strategy that she had failed to notice the blond witch’s subtle advances. As she studied the board anew, she noticed how much she had overlooked. There was very little to be done. Resignedly, she moved her bishop forward in a futile defense as Pippa gazed intensely at the changing board.

Pippa was one of the few, who could best her at the game of chess. Hecate would not dismiss Pippa’s intellect by attributing her wins to her own distraction, although she did often find her eyes drifting to brows furrowed in concentration, hands that guided white pieces with calm assurance, and warm brown eyes that alit with passion whenever Pippa spoke of her school. But no, Pippa’s strength lay in her ability to see the whole board and her agile adaptability to whatever Hecate threw her way, and if she had an uncanny gift of anticipating Hecate’s every step, the dark-haired witch would not presume that she was in any way unique in Pippa’s attention or affections. Across from her, Pippa briefly contemplated the board before glancing up with a victorious grin, “Checkmate.”

“Well played,” Hecate congratulated. “Pippa, would you like a cup of tea before you flew home?”

The blond-haired witch cheerfully agreed. “I would love a cup of tea. I would love nothing more.” Clearing the chessboard with a small wave, Hecate conjured a tray of tea accompanied by a small plate of biscuits.

Tea and biscuit in hand, Pippa tentatively began, “Hecate, have you any particular plans for the Yule holidays?”

Hecate took but a moment to consider the coming fortnight, “Not particularly, although I am looking forward to a week of quiet in the castle once the girls leave for home.”

Pippa casually continued, “My parents are holding their annual Yuletide party later this week for some nearby families, the Thistlegroves, Beryls, Merrywoods…”

At those familiar names, Hecate recalled long-suppressed memories of her years at Cackle’s Academy. She had arrived at school her first year, grieving the recent loss of her mother, in clothes a tad too worn for the prestigious Hardbroom name. A somber man by temperament, her father had neglected to purchase all her school supplies, stricken by his own overwhelming grief and ill-accustomed to tending to the needs of such a large house, let alone his only daughter. The loss of a beloved wife had left him even more rigid, finding structure a comfort to chaos, and only too eager to send Hecate away to be cared for by others. She remembered her first week at Cackle’s as particularly lonely. Her teachers had been quick to laud her many talents and her classmates just as quick to whisper callous jokes about her drab appearance, scuffed shoes, and secondhand potions ingredients borrowed from the potion’s mistress’s personal stores in piques of jealousy.

As the months rolled on, Hecate had grown to stoically endure her grief, learning the harsh lessons of adolescence, that weaknesses were easily exploited and any sign of difference an invitation for ridicule among her peers. Mastering her coursework with the ease of a Hardbroom, she had directed her extracurricular attentions to the study of spells for her own defense, and when her classmates could not best her in the classroom and soon realized that Hecate could just as adeptly wield her magic to untangle tied shoelaces, blot sodden homework, and tame brooms spelled into rebelliousness, they had resorted to less creative and far more effective means. In classes, Hecate had frequently discovered herself in need of a partner. At lunch, a seat with the others was never to be found, and Hecate had adjusted accordingly, choosing the best cauldron for herself and finding escape in books over mealtimes.

The one bright light of those years had centered upon her single friend, Pippa Pentangle. Smart as a whip but with a generous heart and never one to boast of her successes, Pippa had been beloved by teachers and classmates alike. While Hecate had found herself consistently competing with Pippa for top marks that first year, she had rarely spoken to the blond-haired witch, catching only glimpses of Pippa’s small frame amidst her flocking admirers.

That is, until one day near the end of their first year, when Hecate had been dreadfully ill and confined to her room of her own choosing. Her mother had passed away a year ago that day, and Hecate had missed her mother terribly. All day, she had dotted her pillow with tears in quiet anguish, claiming sickness to her undeceived teachers, when she had heard a hesitant knock at her door around sunset. And there had stood Pippa with a tray of dinner in hand, snuck out from the dining hall, and only a little worse for wear. She had surprised her with a sympathetic hug, her gentle but strong arms briefly wrapping around Hecate’s tall and gangly frame with unexpected solidity, and she had murmured a quiet wish for Hecate to feel better before leaving her to her solitude.

The next morning, Hecate had found Pippa seated by her usual cauldron at the front of the room, potions ingredients at the ready. All period they had worked silently side-by-side, the pink clad witch offering her a gentle smile now and then and asking for nothing beyond an eye of newt to stir into the boiling liquid. A shared cauldron had soon turned into a shared meal, which had turned into hours spent revising in the library for nerve-wracking exams followed by shouts of glee during wild broomstick races as the two young witches had darted around the castle. Even now, Hecate could vividly remember the autumn sun warming her skin and her long braid whipping in the wind as she had evaded Pippa’s chase, her eyes glinting with mischief and her pink cloak billowing out behind her.

As they grew older, Pippa and Hecate had also grown bolder in their friendship. There had been nighttime excursions into the kitchens to sneak sweets (for Pippa, who Hecate had learned had an insatiable sweet tooth and for whose joy she had learned she would risk even the most formidable of detentions), unsanctioned sleepovers as they had crept between each other’s rooms on cold winter nights too often to count, and whispered confessions beneath the midnight sanctuary of their layered coverlets. And for a while, Hecate had been happy again.

Unfortunately, Hecate’s newfound happiness had invited more merciless taunts from the others in her year. Though quieter and always out of Pippa’s earshot, her tormentors had doled out ever crueler punishments. Pippa’s childhood friends, Hester Thistlegrove and Edna Beryl, had been particularly persistent, giving voice to her deepest fears as they hissed at Hecate to leave Pippa alone, that Pippa was better off without her, their friendship only Pippa’s pity for orphans. Ignorant as they were, Hester and Edna had been right, of course, for how could Pippa ever feel the same --

“- if Miss Cackle can spare you. It would be our first Yule together since - Hiccup? You seem to be lost in thought.”

“Forgive me, Pippa. My mind had wandered…. What was it you were saying?”

“It has been a long day. I should probably return to Pentangle’s before the forecast fog tonight.” As Pippa reluctantly grabbed her cloak and hat, she continued carefully, “I was only asking about the Yuletide party at my parents’ estate this Friday. I would so love it if you were able to come, and I know my parents would be delighted to have you. It’s been so long since they’ve seen you.” At Hecate’s look of hesitation, Pippa drew near and softly met her gaze. “You don’t have to answer now, but please do think about it, Hiccup. I’ll mirror tomorrow.” Placing a tender hand against Hecate’s face, she leaned in to press a light kiss to her cheek in farewell. Conjuring her broomstick with a wave of her hand, Pippa gently opened the window and flew out into the night.

As Hecate watched the golden-haired witch disappear into the gathering fog, she felt a familiar flutter in her stubborn heart, a flutter she had once mistaken for friendship, then condemned as foolish selfishness, and now recognized as the forbearer of pain. _Hecate Hardbroom, you have been down this road before. You know how this story ends._ The memory of Pippa’s persistent cries as she knocked against her closed door and tear-stained face so many years ago flashed through her mind followed by the nights of loneliness and aching longing at Weirdsister College.

_And so she did._


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a very trying day, and her tossing and turning the night before had certainly not helped Hecate’s mood. First, Sybil Hallow had exploded her cauldron by over-stirring a simple Cough Suppressant potion, and even Clarice Twigg had missed two of the eight most common uses of fennel root on the first years’ end-of-term assignment. The lack of focus in her students never ceased to amaze Hecate. At least, she had only one period left before she could soak her feet in essence of lilac for the evening, or so she had thought before one Mildred Hubble scurried shamefacedly into class fifteen minutes after the final bell.

“You’re late, Mildred Hubble,” Hecate noted on her attendance sheet as a matter of course.

“But, Miss Hardbroom, it wasn’t my fault! It was Eth-,” the young witch began to feebly protest.

“No excuses, Mildred. Detention. Tonight.”

At the deputy headmistress’s sharp pronouncement, Enid shot up out of her seat in indignation, “On our last night! But Miss Hardbroom –“

Hecate drily replied, “I’d be happy to arrange for you to spend the evening together, Miss Nightshade, if you’d prefer… in detention.”

A dark shadow crossed the young girl’s face as Enid plopped back down into her seat with a huff, grumbling under her breath, “It’s so unfair. She lets her get away with everything.” Beside her, Maud carefully weighed out her ingredients and urgently whispered, “Be quiet! HB won’t listen, and she would never believe us anyway. You know how she is about the Hallows. You’ll just make things worse for Millie.”

_I hear everything, Maud Spellbody._ Interrupting Maud’s whispers, Hecate continued in a foreboding voice, “Now, if there aren’t any more interruptions, Mildred, today’s assignment is a Levitation Potion. I expect to see at least passable potions from each of you by the end of the period.” With a flick of her wrist, the deputy headmistress summoned a single crisp sheet of paper, covered in her precise script. “Ingredients and instructions are on your desk.”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom.” Mildred slunk to her seat and began sorting through her materials.

As Hecate walked around the classroom, stopping every few feet to inspect the potions in progress, she was disappointed to see some very sloppy potions indeed as girls distractedly chatted amongst themselves about the upcoming Yuletide holidays. Her students never seemed to realize that there were no secrets in her potions lab, the room enchanted to carry every hushed sound to her ears, and today, the lab was abuzz with whispered conversations.

A few minutes later, Hecate was pleased to observe a confident Ethel Hallow halfway through brewing a near perfect Levitation Potion, the cauldron at her pristine workstation filled with a gently swirling, clear blue liquid. The brunette witch was impressed and gave her star pupil a satisfied nod. Preening at her potion mistress’s approbation, the blond-haired girl smugly walked to the front of the room to gather several sticks of licorice root for the next phase of the spell.

As Hecate continued her rounds, she noticed Ethel stop in front of Mildred’s desk with a smirk. From even across the room, she could see the two girls sniping at each other. The deputy headmistress sighed. This petty feud between Ethel Hallow and Mildred Hubble was getting quite tiresome, and with her temples already straining from her earlier frustrations, the potions mistress was sorely tempted to tune them out altogether, if only for a day’s reprieve. However, Hecate Hardbroom was not one to shirk her duties, no matter how tedious, and with a flick of her wrist, the exhausted deputy headmistress concentrated the amplifying charm in the direction of the troublesome duo just in time to hear the blond-haired witch taunt, “Why Mildred, whatever’s the matter?” As Ethel drew Mildred’s attention, Hecate spied a few pieces of what looked to be honeysuckle seed slip out of the young girl’s sleeve and into Mildred’s cauldron in her latest foolhardy attempt to undermine the other girl.

Silently admonishing the blond-haired witch for her arrogant disregard for potion safety, the potions mistress begrudgingly allowed the interaction to play out. After the series of student dishonesties that had led to the theft of the Founding Stone earlier this year, the deputy headmistress deemed it better that their shenanigans take place under her watchful eyes than behind closed doors, and she supposed that a few honeysuckle seeds could not do much harm beyond limiting the levitation spell to the hair follicles of one’s head, a childish prank at most.

Keeping an eye on the two girls as she monitored the work of the rest of her students, Hecate watched as the blond-haired girl peered at the contents of Mildred’s cauldron with disdain, lifting her nose with a sniff, “If I were you, Mildred Hubble, I think I’d be too embarrassed to continue at this school. Look at that glop. You truly are the worst witch.”

Cheeks burning, Mildred turned to glance back at her cauldron only to find that her once blue, albeit somewhat thick and clumpy potion, was starting to emit a noxious smell and turn an ominous red. She hissed at Ethel, “What did you do?” Angrily, she retorted, “Well, Ethel Hallow, if I were you, I think I’d be too embarrassed to stay at Cackle’s because you don’t have any friends! Maud’s head of year, and you’re nothing but the school bully.”

Stiff with fury, Ethel coldly rejoined, “We’ll see, Mildred Hubble.” As Mildred cradled her head in her hands, Hecate paused to reflect that she had yet to scrutinize the young witch’s cauldron and with Mildred’s penchant for disaster and her history of dreadfully inept potion-making, she could only guess at its contents. This would likely be another naught percent for the girl, with or without the addition of the stray honeysuckle seeds.

The deputy headmistress had just resolved to stalk over to the quarreling girls when she saw Ethel’s unsteady legs meet with the not-so-innocently misplaced foot of one devious Enid Nightshade, who appeared to be imbuing the simple act of stirring with rapt attention, and with that single act, a cascade of chaos overcame the potions lab. The blond-haired girl immediately stumbled to the side, her panicked hands scrabbling for purchase on the nearest tabletop and her elbow jutting into Mildred’s cauldron in the process. The unintentional disruption of the liquid seemed to catalyze a chemical reaction as the now violently red, steaming potion splattered all over nearby Felicity, who had been failing to hide her own grin as she catalogued away fresh gossip for her holiday edition of The Daily Bubble. As the liquid landed against Felicity’s exposed hands and arms with a sizzle, the young girl cried out in immense pain.

Suddenly, Hecate materialized beside the gaggle of girls, “Enough! What is going on here?” Taking in Felicity’s angry welts and growing pustules, she commanded, “Maud, please take Felicity to the infirmary at once.” With a wave, she safely cleared away as much of the volatile potion as she could and conjured a re-dampening cloth with a thin veneer of aloe for Felicity, to ease what little pain she could. “That will hopefully help with the burns until Miss Mend can take a closer look.” As the two girls ran off, the deputy headmistress whirled around to glare at the three responsible young witches. “Now what happened?” she demanded. Met with silence, Hecate leant down to sniff at the remaining contents of Mildred’s upturned cauldron, her eyebrows shooting up at the powerful odor. Turning towards the three blanch-faced girls, she continued, “This pitiful excuse for a Levitation Potion looks to be on its way to turning into a Burning Pepper Paste, although how you managed that, I cannot even begin to fathom.” Hecate then trained her shrewd gaze onto Mildred as she fiddled nervously with her long braids, “Mildred Hubble, would you care to explain?”

With a glance at Ethel’s face frozen in horror, Mildred paused and determinedly replied, “I-I-I don’t know, Miss Hardbroom. I must have accidentally put in some extra ingredients.”

“Millie!” Enid exclaimed next to her friend.

Mildred quieted her with a significant look as Ethel sighed with palpable relief. “It’s the holidays, and I,” she meekly offered, “I must have been distracted.”

Hecate wryly observed, “How very noble of you, Mildred; however, I will not let you fall on the sword for your friends today. Mildred, _Enid_ , you will both join me for detention this evening. Miss Nightshade, it looks like you got your wish after all.”

“Detention!” Enid responded, “HB, it’s the last day of term!”

“Enid Nightshade, you are lucky you are not being _expelled_ ,” Hecate enunciated, “with your willful contribution to Miss Foxglove’s injuries.” Enid winced. Hecate continued, “Consider it an early Yuletide gift that I am not holding you through the winter break.” Having received a more appropriately penitent response from the mischief-maker, the potions mistress concluded, “You two will complete the rest of your week’s worth of detentions next term, and Mildred, you will re-brew a perfect Levitation Potion on your first day back or next term may very well be your last at Cackle’s Academy. I highly recommend you spend your holidays _revising_.” At that pronouncement, the young girl’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

Just then, the bell rang. Hecate dismissed the class, emptying each cauldron with a weary wave, and the classroom of girls was quick to pack up their belongings, eagerly discussing plans for the break while intermittently passing curious glances back at the two unlucky culprits, who seemed decidedly less excited than their peers for the evening’s festivities.

Mildred dejectedly shuffled out of the room, mumbling, “We should check on Maud and Felicity,” with Enid dogging her heels. Enid’s incensed voice could be heard as they left the room, “Mil, why did you let –“

“Ethel,” Hecate called out, and at her name, the solitary girl’s shoulders stiffened once more with fear. “Don’t think I consider you an innocent in this case,” Hecate reprimanded. “In accordance with the Witches Code, the first rule of the Witches Code is not to use magic for personal gain. The second is not to harm other witches, and whether you like it or not, Mildred Hubble is. another. witch.”

“But, Miss Hardbroom, I didn’t use any mag-” Ethel opened her mouth to insist.

Quieter, Hecate stated, “Words can often be our sharpest weapons. You would do well to remember that, Ethel Hallow. Detention tonight. You will join Enid and Mildred for a week of detentions next term, and your mother will be receiving a letter from me as well.”

“Please don’t tell my mother, Miss Hardbroom,” Ethel pleaded in earnest, her eyes wide with wavering tears. “I’ll be better. I promise.”

Seemingly unmoved, Hecate dismissed the tearful girl with a wave, “You may go, Ethel.”

“But, Miss Hardbroom,” Ethel protested.

“You may go, Ethel.”

Defeated, the blonde-haired girl managed a brief, “Yes, Miss Hardbroom,” before trudging towards the door. As Ethel reached the threshold, Hecate casually remarked, “And I trust no honeysuckle seeds will find their way into any other cauldrons next term.” Ethel whipped her head around in surprise only to see the potions mistress bent over her notebook, carefully recording the day’s dismal marks. Ethel choked a subdued, “Yes, Miss Hardbroom,” before hurriedly exiting the classroom.

A short conversation with Miss Mend revealed that Felicity, the poor girl, would be returning home for the Yule holiday with painful burns and pustules on her arm and strict instructions for a regimented application of healing ointment over the break, which would mean a letter to the Foxgloves explaining today’s unfortunate incident. Hecate massaged her temples in a futile attempt to ward off an unremitting headache. She could only imagine Fenella Foxglove’s angry missive in response. Indeed, it had been a very trying day. Alone at last, she redirected her steps towards her private chambers for that long-awaited soak.

As she reached the landing of the faculty residences, she spotted Ada’s kindly smile with unusual dismay. “Hecate, would you like to join me for tea?” Ada invited, per their daily tradition. The headmistress was the closest thing Hecate had to a family. While others had been turned off by her brusque ways, Ada had never taken her rebuffs personally and had chosen instead to pursue her friendship with unflagging patience, a debt she felt she could never quite repay. While she was loathed to disappoint Ada, Hecate found herself drily demurring, “Ada, I will have to decline today. I have a dreadful headache and fear I would be very poor company.” With a restless night’s sleep, she found she had reached her limit for human interaction and would need a respite before her round of detentions this evening.

“Of course, Hecate. I do hope you’re able to get some rest. Would you like me to send for a Calming Draught? I find that always does the trick when I’m feeling particularly tense.”

“No, thank you, Ada. I’m sure a quick nap is all I need to be back to my jolly self.”

“What would we do without our ‘Miss Hardbroom’ to keep our girls in line,” Ada teased. As an afterthought, she added, “Oh, Hecate, that reminds me. I’ve just received notice from the Magic Council forecasting the Mists of Time heading this way later this evening. Unfortunate timing with end of term tomorrow and our girls confined to the castle, but we’ll do what we must to uplift our girls’ spirits indoors. I’ll have Miss Drill and Miss Bat inform the girls to keep all the windows and doors closed but wanted to let you know as well to take your own precautions.”

“The Mists? Best to keep an eye on Mildred Hubble. The girl seems a veritable magnet for catastrophe.”

“Not to worry, Hecate. We have everything under control,” Ada reassured.

Hecate had just entered her private chambers when she received an incoming mirror call. Would this day never end? It was Pippa, punctual as always, and she had not had a moment to prepare a response to her invitation from the night before. With a sigh, she answered the call. It would not do to delay as she would only worry Pippa unnecessarily.

“Hecate,” Pippa greeted brightly. Upon seeing the usually immaculate deputy headmistress’s slightly disheveled appearance, Pippa’s lips dropped into a small frown of concern as she exclaimed, “Hecate, you look positively dead on your feet. Whatever’s happened?”

“Pippa, I’m sorry that I’ll need to reschedule for another time. The girls have been a challenge today, and with the Mists of Time heading our way, I anticipate another Hubble-related fiasco.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had a difficult day, Hiccup. I know teenage girls can be quite the handful. I hope you remember we were no angels ourselves,” the blond-haired witch said with a smile. “But I do think you are rather too hard on Mildred. She’s a very sweet girl as far as I can tell.”

Hecate massaged her temples in frustration. This headache would simply not relent. She snapped, “Pippa, a viper would appear sweet to you, and as you’re well aware, I am being no ‘harder’ on her, as you say, than the witching world will be. If she is to be a witch, she must learn to adhere by the rules of the Witches Code, both explicit and implicit, and if she cannot, she is far better off being sent away now, for she will be ostracized and ridiculed. No matter how ‘sweet’ she is!”

Pippa stared back at her with shock, and perhaps more wounding, a glimmer of, she assumed, pity. Hecate rarely lost her temper. It was a lesson she had learned long ago. Better cold calculation than impotent fury. Pippa took a hesitant breath, “Hecate,” she proceeded gently, “you can be so cruel sometimes –“

Indignant, Hecate reeled. Her defenses closing in swift and fast, she interrupted coolly, “I know I am cold and hard and unforgiving, Pippa Pentangle. I’ve heard it all, and this is who I am. Thirty years has not changed that.”

Pippa’s eyes glistened with tears. She quickly clarified, “No, Hiccup, to yourself! You can be so cruel-.“ Pippa seemed on the cusp of tears, and Hecate’s heart was overcome with regret and self-recrimination. She had done that. She had done this to her dear friend, her oldest friend, the confident, poised Pippa Pentangle, who even the Magic Council acknowledged as an indomitable force. With her brash words. Had she learned nothing in thirty years to carelessly wound Pippa in this way, when she had just re-entered her life?

Hecate cut Pippa off, ashamed and so very, very tired, “I’m sorry for losing my temper, Pipsqueak. I know you were only calling about the Yuletide party, and here I am spoiling your evening with my horrid mood. I’m sure Pentangle’s has their holiday celebrations underway as well, and you have a busy evening ahead yourself.”

“Hecate, nonsense. I mirrored you, remember?”

A gentle shiver passed unbidden through Hecate’s body, an urgent request for her presence from Ada. It was likely for the best. What more could she say?

“Ada is calling, so I must go.”

“Shall I call back later?”

“No, there’s no need. I’m afraid I have far too much to do this weekend and would likely be ill-suited for company, so I won’t be able to attend. Please send my regrets to your parents, Pippa.” Without giving Pippa a moment to respond, Hecate abruptly ended the call and transferred to Ada, filled with so much familiar regret.


	3. Chapter 3

Hecate appeared before a flustered Ada and Dimity Drill. “Hecate, thank goodness! We’ve just gotten word from the Magic Council about the Mists. They say these are no ordinary Mists of Time, and they have warned us to fortify the castle however we can.”

“No ordinary Mists?” Hecate questioned.

Dimity chimed in, “These mists are traveling faster than the ones we’ve seen in the past, and there have been a handful of reports across the countryside of witches and wizards swept up in the mists disappearing without a trace.”

The headmistress somberly confirmed, “People have simply vanished, Hecate. You know as well as I that we know so little about the Mists of Time, gleaning what we can from the few who’ve returned to tell the tale, accounts of how they can carry people through time and space, perhaps bend reality itself, but I, for one, do not want to find out firsthand.”

Dimity emphatically agreed, “I’ll second that sentiment.”

In a more optimistic tone, Ada added, “And after the year we’ve had, with the founding stone, Miss Mould, and Agatha, I would love to end the year on a high note.”

Hecate skeptically raised an eyebrow. At Ada’s pleading look, Hecate straightened and briskly nodded, “I will do what I can to fortify the wards around the academy. It will take a few hours at least. How much time do we have?”

“They give us no more than an hour, Hecate.”

“Then, I shall have to be quick,” Hecate wryly responded.

“Miss Bat and Mr. Rowan-Webb will gather the girls in the dining hall for dinner and festivities, and Miss Drill and I will personally check the safeguards in every room.”

“And Ada, please do try to communicate the gravity of the situation to the girls. We don’t need them stirring up any trouble tonight,” Hecate added with a touch of exasperation.

“I don’t want to frighten them. They are still only children.” At Hecate’s pressing, Ada hesitated but for a moment before giving a firm nod and steeling her spine, “But I will do my best. Dimity, shall we?”

Hecate had flown around the castle ramparts, rapidly securing the academy with every spell and incantation she could recall on short notice to seal the exterior from the impending Mists. As long as every entrance stayed closed, Hecate mused with satisfaction, Cackle’s Academy could watch the mysterious mists pass by from the safety of their own windows. By the end of her final lap, she could see violet mists approaching on the horizon against the setting sun.

Stowing away her broom and cloak, Hecate transferred to the front hall to join the gathered students in the dining room. She could hear the growing murmurs in the distance and Ada’s magnified voice, announcing the lockdown to the students. Her head throbbed again, and now her body too ached from the exhaustion of flying. An evening trapped indoors with a school-full of restless girls was the last thing she wanted to subject herself to, but as deputy head, she knew there was no way around it. As she straightened her shoulders and pushed open the door to the dining room, Hecate heard the distinct meow of a distressed familiar and exasperatedly stalked in the direction of the wayward cat.

“Tabby, please Tabby, come in. It looks like a storm is headed for Cackle’s, and I already have detention tonight. Please, Tabby,” Mildred pleaded with the frightened cat on the open windowsill.

“Mil, we have to go. I think I just heard Miss Cackle say the whole academy is on lockdown again,” Maud urged.

“Not without Tabby.”

“Keep him distracted, Mil. I’ll grab him from behind,” Enid encouraged, as she swiftly scooped the quivering cat from the exposed ledge. “Got him!”

Rounding the corner, Hecate saw a rush of violet fog spilling across Cackle’s grounds, mere feet from the window the girls stood beside. “Girls! Get behind me. Now!” There wasn’t a moment to spare. With a snap, the three girls were transferred to the dining hall. From the corner of her eye, Hecate could see tendrils of mist pouring into the castle. The wards had been breached, and she prayed to the gods that no other students were wandering the hallways.

The muscles in her forehead strained from exertion as she struggled to find another way.

Ada’s warning echoed in her mind, _“People have vanished, Hecate.”_

The stress of the day seemed to collapse upon her. Enid’s disgruntled gripes, _“She’s so unfair”_ ; Maud’s whispered accusations, _“HB won’t listen, and she would never believe us anyway”_ ; Mildred’s shoulders slumped in defeat; Ethel’s pitiful pleas falling on deaf ears, _“I’ll be better. I promise!”_ ; _“What would we do without our ‘Miss Hardbroom’ to keep our girls in line,”_ Ada jeered.

Pippa’s face joined her parade of tormentors. _“Hecate, you can be so cruel sometimes.”_

In mere seconds, her decision was made, the risk far too high to leave any viable alternative. Turning, she met Mildred’s eyes as they widened in realization. “No, HB!” Pulling the dining room door shut with a resolved wave, Hecate raised her trembling hands and expelled what remained of her already depleted magic to re-seal the door’s exterior with protective enchantments muttered in rapid succession. Spells in place, even the cacophony that had exploded within the dining hall just moments ago among staff and students alike was muffled. Silence at last. If there was to be one less witch in this castle, she reasoned she had often done more harm than good. As the mists claimed her, Hecate thought, if she was to disappear into the mists, to be plucked from existence, then perhaps, they would all be better off, as if she had never existed at all. And the world faded into darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

When Hecate opened her eyes, the mists had cleared, and the bright blue sky of a cloudless morning greeted her from beyond the window. Sunlight streamed over Cackle’s unblemished grounds. The grandfather clocked read a little after eight. To her right, a hanging hallway mirror showed herself, immaculate as always, with only a few escaped strands of hair out of place. Otherwise, she appeared to be in one piece. Her mind felt relaxed, her body well-rested, and all her aches and pains from the night before but a memory. Where was she, she wondered. And more importantly, when?

She walked hesitantly down the hallway to the dining room. Better to be cautious, she supposed, unsure of what awaited her on the other side of the door. As she neared, she could hear the familiar chatter of a school-full of girls. Gently pushing open the slightly ajar door, Hecate saw before her a most unremarkable scene, the everyday bustle of breakfast being served. Blinking with confusion, she took in the tables of hungry and sleepy and excited girls, Miss Tapioca ladling bowls of porridge with a sour expression on her face, and the long staff table set as usual. Hecate sighed with palpable relief. Perhaps she had only lost a few hours after all. The Magic Council did often have the wrong end of the stick. No ordinary mists, my foot.

“Get up!” barked an authoritarian voice. Ethel was staring down a timid Beatrice Bunch. “You’re in my seat.”

“I didn’t realize, Ethel,” Beatrice quavered as she hurried away to an empty table nearby, followed by the chastened scurry of fellow first-year, Clarice.

“Sybil,” Ethel commanded with an air of great magnanimity. “You can stay, if you like. You are a Hallow after all, even if you don’t quite live up to the name.”

Hecate bristled with indignation at this blatant display of intimidation over the younger students and stalked over to the puffed-up blond-haired girl. Clearly, excessive allowances had been made in her absence. “Ethel Hallow! I demand that you apologize this instant for your ghastly behavior. I expected better of you.”

Ethel gave the brunette witch a quick once-over before tossing the deputy headmistress a look of utter disdain, “I will not! Who are you, anyway?” Mustering a smidge of curiosity, she asked, “Are you the new supply witch?”

“The new supply witch,” Hecate sputtered. “You should know by now that I will not tolerate such impertinence, Ethel. Don’t you know who I am?” She rose herself to her full height, looming over the young girl in full knowledge of the fear she would induce.

“No,” Ethel glanced at her quizzically, utterly unfazed. “Should I?”

Hecate staggered back with shock from what she beheld in those frosty blue eyes. This was no misguided show of feigned superiority. There was not even a glimmer of recognition in the young girl’s features for her most respected teacher.

Deeming her opponent effectively silenced, Ethel returned to her companions with a roll of her eyes and a theatrical whisper, “They must be desperate. It looks like anyone can be hired as a teacher these days. Wait until my mother hears about this.”

Hecate’s mind was all a flurry as she paused to more closely observe her surroundings. This was Cackle’s Academy, and here was Ethel Hallow, exactly as she had left her mere hours ago. Of that, there could be no mistake, and yet the feeling that something was amiss niggled at the back of her mind. Perhaps she had dismissed the mists too soon. Continuing with her scan, there was Maud Spellbody with her nose in a book, unaccompanied by Mildred and Enid in a rare occurrence. The teacher’s table was only half-full, neither Gwen nor Algernon appearing to have arrived yet for breakfast, nor Miss Drill, for that matter, and she did not recognize the two witches seated.

She did not seem to be displaced in space or time, yet the uncomfortable twinge of dread persisted. Well, Hecate Hardbroom was nothing if not a woman of action. She simply needed to speak with Ada. The headmistress would know what to do. Hecate sought out the familiar red knit sweater Ada always seemed to favor. Where was Ada? It was unlike her to miss any opportunity to congregate with her students, especially after the harrowing events of last night.

“You seem a little lost,” someone chimed from behind her. Hecate started and turned to find Dimity Drill’s smiling face.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Hecate murmured with relief as the tension drained from her body. “Miss Drill,” Hecate perplexedly began, awaiting the flying mistress’s explanation for the bizarre sequence of events that had characterized her morning.

“That’s me. Dimity Drill, at your service. How can I help you?”

Hecate spluttered, “H-help me?”

“Ah,” Dimity noted with dawning realization, “you must be the new supply witch, and in my opinion, you haven’t come soon enough. We’ve been so short-staffed. We could really use your help, Miss…”

Hecate’s mouth flapped uselessly with rising horror. Even Dimity Drill did not know her. She was a stranger in her own home. That frightening thought dislodged another as Ada’s voice echoed from the chambers of her memory, _“We know so little about the Mists of Time, gleaning what we can from the few who’ve returned to tell the tale, accounts of how they can carry people through time and space, perhaps bend reality itself.”_


	5. Chapter 5

“H-H-Hardboom…. Hecate Hardbroom,” the brunette witch stuttered in reply.

“Well met, Miss Hardbroom,” Dimity raised a hand in greeting. “Hardbroom, now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. I know the Hardbrooms were always well-regarded as one of the most powerful and ancient of witching families, but I was under the impression the family line had ended a few generations ago.” Dimity continued with a lighthearted shrug, “My mistake – witchory never was my strong suit. Well, welcome to Miss Cackle’s Academy, Miss Hardbroom, soon to be the Hallow School of Witchcraft.”

Hecate willed her composure to remain intact, her worst fears now confirmed. She was displaced not in time nor space but in the timeline of her own existence, as if she had simply vanished from the world she had known. Hecate asked her next question, terrified of the flying mistress’s response. “And what has happened to Miss Ada Cackle?”

Dimity gave her a look of surprise, “Surely, you’ve heard of the misfortunes that have befallen our Academy in the last year, Miss Hardbroom. Quite a scandal really. Agatha Cackle had been scheming to reclaim the school for years after she learned her mother had passed her over to give the reins to her younger, identical twin sister, and last year, she finally succeeded, impersonating Ada and stealing the powers of none other than Ursula Hallow’s eldest daughter, Esme.” Dimity shook her head with dismay, “While the deception only lasted a few days and Agatha was imprisoned once more, it was the last straw for the Magic Council. They lost confidence in Ada and called for her resignation.” Hecate well remembered the fallout after Agatha and Miss Gullet had infiltrated the school near end of term last year. Ursula Hallow had done her utmost to cast Ada as out of touch and no longer fit to manage the responsibilities of headmistress. Hecate shuddered to recall how it had only been her persistent reassurances, backed by the ancient Hardbroom name and her unassailable record as a defender of the Code, that had kept Ursula’s accusations at bay as former allies on the Council had faltered against her strident demands for Ada’s immediate dismissal.

“Say no more,” Hecate gently stopped the other witch. “Ada was no match for Ursula Hallow’s wrath.” Dimity nodded in acknowledgement. In this world, Ada had been castigated as unable to care for her students, derided as an unfit head teacher, and Hecate could only imagine how her unconventional staff selections would have been thrown against her, a long-retired Madam Vespertilio, known for her penchant for sleeping through class, a wizard at an all girls’ academy and one who had spent the last several decades trapped in the body of a frog no less. Ursula would have had a field day, while Ada would have stood, friendless and undefended, before a Council cowed by Hallow wealth and influence. “And now?”

“Traveling,” Dimity replied. “She was somewhere in Belgium in her last letter. I expect she needed some time to recover. She was devastated, losing her school and her home, her family really, in one fell swoop.” At least, Ada was alive. Hecate found some small comfort in that, even if her most steadfast ally lay beyond the realm of consolation or helpfulness.

“And Miss Bat, Mr. Rowan-Webb?”

“Most of the faculty’s been subjected to rigorous and biased, if I do say so myself, assessments. I’m lucky I still have my job. I guess being the Star of the Sky still counts for something.” Dimity paused, a shadow of caution crossing her face. “Although I’m sure you’re familiar with some of the requirements enforced by the Magic Council from the hiring process. Who did you say reached out to you again?”

“I didn’t,” Hecate hedged as her mind whirled rapidly in search of a believable reply. “I was working as a supply witch at Miss Amulet’s Academy, teaching potions, when I was reassigned here.” It seemed Dimity was all who remained of the Cackle’s teaching staff and was already suspicious of her flimsy story. Hecate resolved to seek out the resources of the library at her earliest opportunity. Books had not failed her yet, and she was certain she would find the answers she needed there. Returning to her line of questioning, Hecate pursued, “And what about the students? Where is Mildred Hubble? Enid Nightshade?”

Suspicions seemingly dismissed, Dimity chuckled, “My, you have done your research.” She confided more soberly, “Expelled, the both of them. Mildred was the first to go, being from a non-witching family and all. No surprise there, and Enid, the poor girl, she sort of lost her way after Mildred left. Last I heard, she was being home-schooled. No other school would take a chance on her. As for the rest, most are still here, although some have been transferred to other academies.”

The image of Maud’s solitary figure, uncharacteristically hunched over a book at breakfast, suddenly took on a more somber pall. But wait, that couldn’t be. Pippa would have never let --

“Surely, Pippa -- Pentangle’s Academy would’ve offered the girls a place to continue their studies,” Hecate pressed. She had no doubt that Pippa would’ve welcomed both girls and any other needing an education with open arms. In fact, Pippa had been the Council’s first choice to succeed Ada as super-head in her own reality, much to Hecate’s fury at the time.

For a moment, Dimity was struck speechless before she burst forth with a deep, belly laugh of unbridled amusement. “Pentangle’s? That’s straight out of the gossip rags for you.” Hecate flinched in response as the dark-skinned witch crowed on, “Can you imagine, a Pentangle’s Academy, in England? What would it teach – posing instead of potions, the latest witch fashions in lieu of witchory? You’ve an odd sense of humor, Miss Hardbroom.”

Pentangle’s not exist? Where was Pippa? The library utterly forgotten, Hecate’s mind raced with possibilities as to Pippa’s fate in this world. “Excuse me, Miss Drill. I’m afraid I’m feeling quite unwell.” And with that mumbled explanation, Hecate transferred abruptly from view, leaving the flying mistress to consider the eccentricities of her new colleague. Wound up tighter than a pocket watch, that one, but she would certainly bring some much-needed levity to Hallow’s halls, whether she meant to or not. She supposed she would check in on the new supply witch once the girls were seen off for the holidays, that is, if she hadn’t already scared her off. With that final thought, Dimity began gathering the girls for their end of term departure.


	6. Chapter 6

A few hours and one erratic broomstick ride later, a frantic Hecate touched her feet on the grounds of Pentangle’s Academy, or at least where Pentangle’s Academy should have been, in a half-run. All around her lay miles of open fields of untended grass for as far as the eye could see with the steeples of a nearby village peeking beyond the next hill the only sign of human life. It was picturesque but evidently long uninhabited, and Hecate felt her chest tighten and her throat constrict with trepidation at the confirmation of Dimity’s words.

Pippa had never founded her own school in this reality, and her mind raced as she tried to fathom a world, where Pippa had relinquished her lifelong dream to build her own academy. The golden-haired witch had spoken of little else in their years at Cackle’s, her voice passionate as she outlined the reforms she would bring about. Eyes glittering with both anger and hope during those quiet nights, she had imagined a school, where every child’s potential would be nurtured through kindness and creativity. Somehow, over the years, Pippa’s childhood visions had morphed into Pentangle’s Academy, an unconventional but lauded bastion of innovation, whose pupils consistently outperformed the more established witching institutions, including, to Hecate’s frequent chagrin, Cackle’s Academy, and Hecate gleaned from Pippa’s stories of her travels during their estrangement, that it was then that she had first been captivated by the possibilities of modern magic, which seemed to bend the rules of tradition with extraordinary results.

With a kick, she set off on her broom once more, and an hour later, a harried Hecate touched down at the outskirts of the expansive Pentangle estate, from where she could see witches and wizards landing on the front porch as the sounds of lilting orchestral music filled the brisk winter air. Carefully stowing away her broom and wordlessly casting an invisibility spell, Hecate cautiously crept towards the house and could just make out the welcoming faces of Mr. and Mrs. Pentangle as they warmly greeted their guests.

Hecate had spent two summers at the Pentangle estate in her youth, and though her heart sank at the thought that Mr. and Mrs. Pentangle, whose many kindnesses to an awkward and shy young girl she remembered with such fondness, would not recognize in her their once surrogate daughter, her eyes sought out a less obtrusive means of entrance. Around the back of the house, Hecate recalled a staff entrance that led into the kitchens from her midnight wanderings with Pippa in search of sweets, and as she edged along the trees bordering the house, she observed the movements of several catering witches guiding trays piled high with hors d’oeuvres and glasses of wine amidst pies, tarts, and other countless variations of Yuletide treats into the interior of the house. As the last servers left the room, leaving only the cooking witches fluttering busily between boiling pots on the stove and ovens emitting the most heavenly of scents, Hecate materialized unnoticed into the kitchen. Now discreetly dressed in the same uniform as the servers, she gracefully levitated a tray topped with champagne flutes and followed suit, down the corridor, and into the great hall.

Moving slowly along the perimeter of the hall, Hecate nervously scanned the gathered crowd for any sign of Pippa. A four-piece orchestra of witches and wizards, performing classical Yuletide chants, entertained guests from one corner, while a few couples had eased into the center of the hall for dancing. She had nearly completed a full lap when Hecate heard a peal of familiar laughter come from the other side of the grand room. There stood the golden-haired witch, draped in an elegant pink dress that perfectly showcased the beauty of her features. Hecate stilled as if entranced, beguiled by Pippa’s generous smile as she regaled her throng of admirers with another humorous anecdote.

The spell cast by Pippa’s appearance was soon interrupted by the loud arrival of two middle-aged witches looking to refill their empty glasses and whet their wagging tongues. Grabbing two flutes from her tray, the two witches leant their heads together in a tête-à-tête, utterly oblivious to Hecate’s presence. Gesturing towards Pippa, the first woman remarked, “They say Sully is planning to propose any day now.” Hecate followed her hand to notice the handsome, dark-haired man, standing with his arm possessively wrapped around Pippa’s waist. Charles “Sully” Sullivan was considered one of the most eligible bachelors of English magical society with his high cheekbones, strong jaw, and considerable fortune.

The second witch agreed, “It’s about time. He’s been circling around Pippa for ages, and her parents would be thrilled by the match. And did you hear that Ursula Hallow invited Pippa to join the Magic Council?”

“Beautiful and blessed, that’s our Pippa,” the first witch drily drawled, and if the comment hid any malice, Hecate did not detect it. Soon boring of their hostess’s many successes, the two witches directed their attentions to the other guests and re-entered the crowd.

Hecate watched Pippa as she effortlessly navigated through the sea of well-wishers, warmly greeting friends with a familiar embrace and joking jovially with others, while Charles remained ever faithfully by her side, seemingly content to orbit Pippa’s sun. Pippa was here and beloved, as she should be, and Hecate let loose a breath she did not realize she had been holding since leaving Cackle’s, even as her heart ached with longing. Her eyes steadily tracked Pippa’s movements until she finally reached the other end of the great hall, at which point, Pippa seemed to disentangle herself from Charles’s arms, giving him a quick peck on the cheek and smilingly waving him off, before she disappeared down a side corridor.

Emerging in the empty corridor with a snap of her fingers, Hecate recognized the hallway as one leading to the family library. Finding the door already slightly ajar, she peered in to observe Pippa standing by the far window in silent contemplation. Far from the vibrant hostess, Pippa seemed more subdued, her fair shoulders wrapped in a cozy ivory shawl over her elegant pink dress and her arms folded around herself. Propelled more so by an ever-present desire to draw nearer to the blond witch than any considered plan, Hecate found herself gently pushing the door further open without a thought to the consequences.

Upon hearing the door, Pippa turned to see a tentative catering witch hovering on the threshold. She smiled, “Did my mother send you?”

Quickly scrambling, Hecate affirmed, “Yes, she had been wondering if you were unwell and sent me to find you to deliver this.” Conjuring a pot of tea and Pippa’s favorite pink donuts behind her back, Hecate unveiled the tray of sweets.

At the sight of the tray, Pippa’s countenance brightened a shade, “How thoughtful.” Raising the mug in her hand, Pippa continued, “I’m afraid I’ve already brewed my own cup, but I’d never say no to a sweet. Please do come in, and won’t you join me….?” Her words trailed off with a question.

“Hecate, Miss Pentangle,” the brunette supplied. She saw no purpose in dissembling. It was evident from Pippa’s friendly but polite gaze that she did not know her.

“Hecate,” Pippa softly repeated, the syllables staccatos on her tongue. “What a beautiful name, and please, call me Pippa.” She gestured to the sofa by the crackling fireplace and seated herself beside the brunette witch as she refilled her cup and helped herself to a donut. “You must think me terribly ungrateful to neglect a houseful of guests to sneak away on my own. It’s just that I much prefer a quieter Yule. I think I’d often imagined as a girl that by this point in my life, I would be spending my Yules sitting by the fireplace, enjoying a cup of tea, with someone I loved. Silly, I know.”

Hecate blurted out on impulse, “But what of --?” Embarrassed, she mumbled an apology, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” This was not her childhood friend, she berated herself, and she did not want to affront Pippa by coming off as an impudent serving witch, prying for personal confidences.

“Sully?” Pippa smiled knowingly, seemingly taking no offense as she poured Hecate a generous cup from the steaming pot. “It’s fine,” she reassured. “I know our pictures are likely splashed about every gossip column in England. I’m under no illusions about that. I care about Charles a great deal,” she shared in more measured tones. “But I don’t love him. Despite my dalliances, so many of which have been so graciously covered in excruciating detail by the tabloids,” she explained with some bitterness, “love has always eluded me. In fact, much of my life has not quite panned out as I would have hoped.” Shaking herself out of her reverie, Pippa chastened herself with an airy laugh, “And listen to me go on. Thank you for humoring me, Hecate. I’m not usually quite so divulging, whatever my reputation.”

Hecate observed that Pippa was much changed in this reality. She looked like her Pippa, or the Pippa she knew from her timeline, shared the deep timbre of her voice, and even smelled like her, she noted, as she allowed herself to breathe in Pippa’s heady, familiar scent, but there was an air of defeat and weary loneliness about her that Hecate did not recognize. With Ada and the girls, Hecate could easily accept the changes wrought by her absence. After all, she had dedicated the better part of her adult life to Cackle’s Academy and been a staunch defender of Ada’s leadership, but these changes in Pippa she could not comprehend. Pippa had achieved her every ambition on her own, already the widely respected headmistress of Pentangle’s when they reconciled a mere year ago. How could the non-existence of one childhood friend among many have so drastically altered the course of her life?

“Not at all, Pippa. It is nice to have a moment to rest my legs by the fire.” Hecate appreciatively stretched said legs, the fire easing her tense muscles from her extended flights this morning. “And I think the mundaneness of our adult selves often falls short of the idyllic visions of our youth.”

“Well put. Hecate, tell me about yourself,” Pippa invited as she settled further into the couch. “I feel as if I’ve been speaking far too much.”

Hecate hesitated. “I sometimes work as a server, like tonight,” she slowly replied before settling on a closer facsimile of the truth. “But I’m a supply witch, just recently assigned to Cackle’s Academy.”

“I’m very familiar with Cackle’s. I was a student there myself.”

“As was I. We must have just missed each other,” Hecate hastened to correct. “I’ve always been fascinated by potions and heard there was a vacancy. Did you never consider teaching?” Hecate probed as she took a sip of her tea. “I thought I had heard somewhere once that you had studied modern magic and its applications.”

“Modern magic?” the blond-haired witch clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, that does bring back memories, but no, sadly, I had only ever dabbled here and there and don’t think I could even summarize its basic tenets, let alone teach a whole course on the subject.”

It pained Hecate to hear Pippa dismiss herself so off-handedly. “Surely, the Magic Council disagrees if your recent appointment is anything to go by.”

Pippa started with surprise, “And where did you hear that I wonder? I only just got the call from Ursula Hallow herself this morning.”

“I-I may have overheard others’ congratulations at the party,” Hecate stammered, the tops of her ears pinking in embarrassment at her poor attempt to conceal her earlier eavesdropping, however unintentional.

Thankfully, Pippa seemed only amused. “My, word does travel fast when Edna and Hester are around. Between you and me, I think it fairer to assume that the Council is more interested in the added publicity and funds that come with the Pentangle name than in listening to the fanciful ideas of a silly, pink-clad witch on the educational merits of modern magic.” Hecate felt a flood of regret at Pippa’s pronouncement. How many times had she flung those same, hurtful words at Pippa, ridiculing her fashion choices, dismissing her modern adaptations as flighty and blasphemous to the Witches Code, and deriding her ambition to upend established conventions as mere selfishness? To hear the words of the blond-haired witch’s harshest detractors echoed by Pippa’s own mouth without a glint of fire in her eyes pierced Hecate’s conscience. “As for teaching, you flatter me, Hecate. Cackle’s – that’s quite an achievement.” She reminisced with a satisfied smile, “Not to toot my own horn, I was head of year throughout my studies, but I confess, I never found the coursework very engrossing and thought the girls in my class quite tedious.” Her expression quickly dimmed, “I remember being awfully lonesome most of the time.” The blond-haired witch followed this comment with a particularly large bite of her donut.

“Surely not,” Hecate gawped. Whatever Pippa’s doubts around her intellectual aptitude, no one could deny that she was adored by all. “You seem to be surrounded by admirers.”

“Ah, ah,” Pippa tsked with a grin, as she continued teasingly, “You mustn’t believe everything that you read, dear Hecate, and one can be so lonesome in a crowd of admirers.”

Hecate sniffed with disbelief, “I’m afraid I couldn’t say.”

Placing a tender hand on the brunette’s thigh, Pippa softly opined, “Now, I’m the one surprised. You’re striking, Hecate.” Musing upon the witch seated beside her, her back ramrod straight and her thick brown hair pulled into a tight bun as she primly sipped her tea, Pippa murmured, “There’s something about you that calls out to me as a kindred spirit. I feel as if I ‘ve known you for a very long time.” Tucking a wayward strand of hair behind the serving witch’s ear, she shifted closer on the sofa.

Hecate’s heart clenched in her chest as she stared at the beautiful, vulnerable woman beside her, and despite Pippa’s kind words, she was consumed by a wave of agonizing grief. Unshed tears pricked her eyes as she recalled the way she had angrily lashed out at Pippa when she saw her last in her own timeline, callously declining her invitation to her family home. Gifted with a second chance, she had taken Pippa for granted, and now the realization that she may never see her Pippa again crashed around Hecate’s devastated heart. _Pipsqueak._

Noticing the tears in the brunette witch’s eyes, Pippa spoke, “Hecate, I apologize if I was too forward.” As Pippa moved to increase the distance between them once more, Hecate reached out to hold fast Pippa’s retreating hand.

“No, it’s not that,” she clarified. “You remind me so very much of someone I once knew.”

“You were in love,” Pippa surmised compassionately.

Looking up into those familiar, gentle brown eyes, shining even now with affection, Hecate whispered, “Yes, I think we were.”


	7. Chapter 7

Releasing Pippa’s hands with reluctance, Hecate quietly stated, “I must go.”

“Of course,” Pippa acquiesced. “I’ve held you long enough, and I should return to the party as well.”

Hecate cleared the traces of their tea and donuts with a quick wave of her hand, while Pippa started towards the door, the brunette witch following close behind. When they reached the library doors, Pippa rested her hand on the knob and, with a hesitant glance back, asked, “Will I ever see you again, Hecate?”

Succumbing to her yearning, Hecate raised her hand to caress Pippa’s cheek with reverence, “Yes, I very much hope so.” Remembering herself after a moment, she stepped back and continued with a small smile, “I will send word here once I’m settled at Cackle’s. Happy Yule, Pippa.”

“Happy Yule, Hecate,” and with that, Pippa waved farewell and pushed open the doors. Hecate watched as the blond-haired witched vanished her shawl and slowly headed down the corridor towards the Pentangle’s Yuletide party, still in full swing. Once Pippa was out of sight, Hecate immediately checked the timepiece hanging around her neck. She calculated that she had a few hours before sunset without a second to spare. She desperately needed to return to her own reality

Conjuring her broom, Hecate considered her options. Flight was certainly the safer choice but would take hours. Dashing caution to the wind, the brunette snapped her fingers, willing her magic to bring her back to Cackle’s Academy in one piece. Two transfers later, a wind-blown Hecate stumbled into the Cackle’s library. Fingers tracing the spines of ancient books, the deputy headmistress pulled out several tomes detailing various accounts of the Mists of Time.

Cracking one open to the appropriate page, she read of the Mists, “And anyone finding themselves in the wrong moment of history when they fade will be trapped there for all eternity.”

Hours later, with the sun visible on the horizon, Hecate was surrounded by piles and piles of haphazardly placed books, each and every one open to the Mists of Time and each and every one as useless as the last. Furious, she slammed the last book shut. How could this be? One Mildred Hubble had traveled safely through the Mists multiple times, an experience less foolhardy witches and wizards would hardly dare repeat, and here was the great Hecate Hardbroom, foiled and facing the prospect of having to build an entirely new life in this distorted reality and entirely uncertain as to what had befallen all those she had left behind in her own.

Surely, there was something she could learn from Mildred’s exploits. She remembered the nervous girl sitting in Miss Cackle’s office, recounting her latest misadventure, as Ada had nodded reassuringly over her spectacles and Hecate herself had stood beside the headmistress’s desk, using every ounce of self-control she possessed to refrain from rolling her eyes and expelling the troublesome young witch on the spot. In this particular instance, Mildred had gone so far as to nearly disturb her own timeline, vanishing before her very eyes as a shattered vial of the Mists of Time lay shattered by the young girl’s feet. “And the next moment, I was staring at a young Miss Hardbroom, studying in the Cackle’s library. Miss Pentangle was there too, and they figured out a way to send me back.” Hecate recalled how she had felt her memories reconfiguring as Mildred spoke, the image of the braided-haired girl, who had traveled from the future and been entrusted into her and Pippa’s care, becoming but a distant memory from her childhood. 

As best as she and Ada could surmise, Mildred had moved in her timeline because she had focused her energies on Hecate in the last moments before the Mists had engulfed her. Hecate struggled to recollect the events of the last twenty-four hours. She had secured the castle walls against the coming mists and transferred to the front hallway only to find Mildred, Maud, and Enid coaxing Mildred’s familiar, Tabby, off the open windowsill. With a wave, Hecate transferred to the front hallway, retracing her steps from the evening before. Hecate’s many defensive spells rendered useless by the broken barrier, the mists had infiltrated the castle walls. Hecate lifted the hallway window in a reenactment of yesterday. Shivering against the winter chill, she turned towards the now-empty dining hall. She expected the girls must have departed for end of term that morning. Muttering a quick incantation, she scanned the castle for signs of life. The castle appeared empty with even the scanty remaining staff departed for the Yuletide holidays. She supposed it was only ever she and Ada, who had remained in the castle over Yuletide, their small family of two.

Through the open window, Hecate could see the setting sun, and with a cry, she saw the accompanying rush of violet fog rapidly approaching the castle. She had but moments to unravel this mystery. Turning to stare at the dining hall doors, she remembered making a choice in those final seconds, to seal the dining room from the outside hall, and the then reassuring thought that if she was to disappear into the mists, then perhaps, they would all be better off. _As if she had never existed at all._ Could it be so simple? That she had willed this reality into being, erasing her very existence with a stray thought?

Rotating on the spot, she watched, her body rigid with frightful anticipation, as violet mist streamed into the hallway. Hecate prayed with every fiber of her being to the gods, _get me back. Get me back. I don’t care what happens to me. Get me back to Ada and the girls. And Pippa. Please. Please. I want to exist again. Please let me exist again._

And the world faded into darkness.

When Hecate returned to consciousness, she could feel the firmness of a mattress beneath her body and a light coverlet shielding her from the cold. Her mind felt scattered, the pangs of a familiar headache pounding away at her temple. Where was she, she wondered. Dragging herself up from the bed, she groaned as her body strained from over-exertion. She was feeling every one of her many years on this earth. 

She pulled the heavy curtains back to see that the mists had cleared once more, and the bright blue sky of a cloudless morning greeted her from beyond the frosted window. Sunlight streamed into the sparsely decorated bedroom, and Hecate squinted to make out the time on the clock by the nightstand. Finely polished with care, it was a handsome, handcrafted wooden clock and read a few minutes past eight. Hecate smiled, it had been an old gift from Ada in celebration of her first year on staff and one of her most treasured possessions.

Hecate’s eyes widened with shock. She was back in her own private chambers at Cackle’s, exactly as she had left it a very long twenty-four hours ago. As she choked back a sob of relief, she heard the creak of the bathroom door from the adjoining room and came face-to-face with one weary golden-haired witch. Pippa’s face was tracked with tears, her hair mussed in a messy ponytail, and her tired brown eyes alit with surprise and recognition. Hecate’s heart soared, and she stilled, as if entranced.

“Hiccup,” the blond whispered with a hushed breath as she crossed the floor to the bedroom. “You’re awake.” Pippa’s voice broke, “We feared we might have lost you. Ada said they had found you collapsed on the floor when the mists had finally gone.” Pippa covered her crumpled face in her hands.

Immediately, Hecate hobbled the remaining steps between them to swiftly embrace the trembling witch. “Pipsqueak, I’m so sorry--”

Composing herself, Pippa placed a hand over Hecate’s protesting lips, “I won’t hear it, Hiccup. From what everyone says, you singlehandedly saved the school.” She gently turned Hecate to reveal a table overflowing with get well cards next to a magically extended chaise-lounge, across which laid a familiar pink sleeping gown. Sitting atop the precarious pile was a large card distinctly magicked by none other than one Mildred Hubble, featuring the clumsily charmed drawing of an unmistakable black-clad witch protecting the castle from a violent, purple mist, and across the top, in the young girl’s familiar hand, the bold caption, “To Miss Hardbroom, the Bravest Teacher at Cackle’s Academy.”

Sniffling, the dark-haired witch buried her face in Pippa’s willing shoulder as she struggled to recover from an overwhelming flood of emotion. Finally raising her eyes to meet warm brown irises, Hecate soundlessly kissed the love of her life. Tenderly caressing Pippa’s blushing cheeks, she murmured with unconcealed affection, “Happy Yule, Pipsqueak.” With a gesture towards the adjoining room, she shyly extended her hand, “Would you care to join me for a cup of tea before we head over to your parents’ estate?”

Gently twining their hands together, Pippa placed a soft kiss on the back of Hecate’s hand as she followed her to the sofa by the fireplace. As the fireplace crackled to life with a flick of the brunette’s wrist, Pippa’s eyes twinkled with wonderment as she wordlessly took in the scene before her, a picture out of a nearly discarded girlhood dream. “Happy Yule, Hiccup. I would love nothing more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading my first Hicsqueak story, and for a story about Mildred’s misadventures with the Mists of Time in Hecate’s timeline, please read “It Took A Look Back (To Take Us Forward)” by spoilmesweetie!


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